It's About
by sunshine80
Summary: Post False Witness.  Tony, knowingly or not, takes some of Ziva's words to heart.
1. It's About Words

**Spoilers**: Set after False Witness and will eventually go through the holiday weekish.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Feedback:** Greatly appreciated.

Words are a simple abstract term with so much ability to manifest ideas. Words like respectfully, love, change, feelings, we, crazy, relationship, unsettling, help, and balance are words with connotations that have the power to create as well as destroy, the power to inspire as well as discourage. What words are used and how they are used are important. He knows this and she knows this.

Their conversation earlier came in the midst of some sort of psychological crisis on his part and she knew it and she had the opportunity to confront him. By the way he interacted and shared, he wanted to talk about what was troubling him as well. The lump in his throat grew as she talked. She was emphatic with a sweet undertone as she maintained eye contact.

A perfectly timed pause between the right words can hold more meaning than the entire conversation in which it occurs. She said "…class clown" and paused knowing that she would regret any silence next more than she would regret the words that were waiting on the tip of her tongue for her to release them. She knew she needed to say them as much as he needed to hear them. So she continued with "…and that is why we love you."

He was on the verge of tears when she cast her gaze slightly downwards, most likely to avoid a sob fest, and uttered those last words before they were interrupted.

SsS

He is feeling better now, the prank proves it. But it is only a day after their conversation in the observation room and he senses that even though the conversation had ended, it is certainly not over. If it was going to be like it always was, then they would use the circumstances as an unspoken excuse to leave each other hanging in an inconclusive conversational limbo. They both are hoping and expecting that this time will be different.

After all of the holiday noise making has settled down in the office, he goes to the break room knowing she will be there washing out her soup bowl from lunch. He could use the typical pretext of foraging for an afternoon chocolate bar as his reason for following her.

"Hey. Shoulda probably waited for you to put your gun in your desk, huh?" He says it with a smile.

She looks up and recognizes that particular smile and knows that he is now on the other side of this slump that has consumed him. "Probably would not have been a bad idea. But it was well played."

He forgoes his vending machine magic and actually puts his money into the contraption. She is looking for another roll of paper towels under the sink. He looks over at her briefly before obeying the digital display and selecting his purchase. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, but you had help."

"Yeah, true. I was talking about what you said yesterday. It helped me get out of my headspace. It is always good to hear that you are not crazy and your coworkers…"

"Friends." She interrupts with a rather unexpected yet pleasant remark. He senses she is just as relieved as he is they are actually continuing this conversation to end any uncertainties from yesterday.

He did not let himself let the conversation linger so he continued. "…friends…appreciate you for who you are, even when you are questioning it yourself." He doesn't know why he elaborates on the simple thank you he intends. But he did start this conversation days ago with his perceptible unusual attitude and continued it, with some assistance, by revealing what was actually bothering him.

He breaks a piece of this chocolate bar off, gives it to her before she asks or helps herself and returns to the bullpen. And at that moment he realizes that thoughts, the ones that stir in your mind and cause doubt and frustration, are not defeated by more thoughts, however pleasant they may be. These thoughts are overcome only with words. Perhaps he is growing up and learning lessons.


	2. It's About Gifts

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

**A/N: I don't think I mentioned it before but this will be five parts and it is currently about 87.3 repeating decimal percent finished.**

He sees the entire ordeal play out before him and he is rather entertained at the scene. He is watching her as he mentally goes through his partner's itinerary for the next couple hours. He knows she is going skiing and she is looking forward to it and she is leaving straight from work and apparently McGee is giving her a ride to the airport and she still has to check on some evidence with Abby. But about an hour before it is time for her to head out she stops, suddenly, as she is putting on her chapstick and looks at it with a delighted expression, like a school girl squee without the squee. He is about to call her on it, but as quickly as the expression arrived, it departed, immediately masked by a disgruntled reaction. She throws the tube into the trash can as if it was going to explode in her hands at any second. The rattle in the trash can indicates, on top of her silent and detectable strength and aim, she does not wish for another encounter with that specific object.

"That was rather lame." She mutters.

It is the smallest of insubstantial miracles. And really, one would probably never classify it as such until they experience it for themselves, but actually using the entire tube of chapstick was an accomplishment. It is not often that happens, especially with the item's mobility and melting temperature. These things have an affinity to become lost under a desk or melt in the car.

He is still sitting there, not really sure what the best response would be. A small, tangible, and relatively benign item that usually rests in a pocket or on a desk or in a car or in a purse, not really noticed until it is needed and missing, has rarely bothered her. All this coupled with the fact that she just used the word lame, actually puzzles him even more. But she carries on as if she forgot what just transpired so he doesn't utter a word.

She gets up from her desk after looking at her watch and heads to the elevator, muttering something in what is more than likely about three of the nine or ten other languages she knows, and the only thing that he can make out is that she is headed to Abby's lab. He turns to his other partner and exchanges a what- just-happened-look then goes over to the trash can now that she is downstairs and verifies what he suspects.

When benevolence kicks him in the butt and knocks him out of curiosity, he looks at his watch and notices he has about an hour before she is leaving for the airport. He shouts across the bullpen to McGee that he will be back before he or she or anyone notices. It is only a 10 minute round trip to the gas station on the corner.

About an hour and a half later they are sitting outside the airport terminal, a last minute change in plans because of a missing McGee, Tony ends up taking her to the airport. He reaches into his pocket then holds out his closed hand and nods for her to pry his fingers open. She looks at him questionably and then opens his hand.

"It's not a Christmas present. It is more like an I-noticed-you-needed-it-and-wanted-to-give-it-to-you present. "You'll need it out there on the slopes."

"When did you have…?" She trails off her inquiry and ends with a simple thank you. She only smiles because she is already running late.

"You're welcome. You should really be commended on using every last usable speck in that one you threw away today."

"Merry Christmas. I'll see you in about a week?" On her insistence he doesn't get out of his car to help her since she has only one bag.

"I'd still like to meet him one day." He doesn't answer her question or reply exactly on topic. She just grins and nods in the affirmative acknowledging the fact there is not time to bring this up and go anywhere with it but the possibility still exists.

"Have fun, be careful." He declares under his breath knowing she won't hear him. He waits for her to step inside the airport before he drives away.


	3. It's About Service

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone following this, only two more installments after this one. Just as a reminder, this is set after False Witness and the last two episodes haven't happened yet in this world :)**

By default, his decision is to go in to work over the holidays and hold down the fort. She is out of the office for a few days around the holidays. In addition to the ski trip, she is also taking a few personal days afterward, just because. At least that is what he had heard. But she leaves the invitation open for a phone call to come in after she gets back from skiing, if it is needed. The rest of the team all does the same. While he is there with the NCIS skeleton crew, there are a few calls and matters that come up but no dead bodies, no missing people, no explosions, and hence no case. Therefore, he settles into wrapping up paperwork and filing, activities that seem to take way too much time for how unglamorous they are. He rationalizes that he could really use the break from watching movies in his recliner and this work needs done eventually. He still feels the urge to go into work, even for a short day. It is this obligatory feeling he has that makes balance difficult for him.

Towards the end of the week, he thinks that he should call her. Or send her a text message. Something just to make sure she is still on the grid. She should be back from skiing by now. But he keeps telling himself to hold on a little longer.

_SsS_

The first couple of days after she gets back from skiing actually fly by. She manages to keep herself busy with chores and errands and reading and running and just, really, catching up on things she had fallen behind with and planned to get done. By the end of the week she finds that laundry has lost its thrill. She doesn't think twice about where he'd be before sending him a text message from the sandwich shop.

_/Are you at work? I'm swinging by__./_

_/Yes./_ He was surprised and almost relieved that she was the first to communicate after her return.

Twenty minutes later she arrives in the bullpen with lunch. It is eerily quiet for the middle of the day. So much so that even though she knows better, she actually double checks the window for sunlight and her watch for the time. Since when do criminals take time off, she wonders only superficially.

Their conversation is brief as she logs onto her computer, checking email first.

"Figured I'd come in and get some paperwork done. Here, eat." She tosses the bag of food over to him.

"You really could have taken the rest of the week off."

"You don't want me here?" As soon as the words leave her mouth she wants to take them back and trade them for something more nonconfrontational. He reads that in her face and he is happy to see her so he teases her, yet with truth, in his response.

"Of course I want you here, you brought lunch."

She brings up the program on her computer to get a start on her paperwork and she reaches over to the other side of her desk for a case file. When she opens it she sees a note, in his handwriting, with the words Happy Holidays scribbled across it. She is slightly confused and looks up at him and notices he really isn't paying much attention to anything but trying not to make a mess of his sandwich. She looks back at the file and notices everything, all the paperwork she came in to do, is complete.

"Hey, did you…finish…?" She doesn't finish her question as she glances back and forth from the files to the computer.

He looks up with his mouth full, hurriedly chewing so he could try to answer, or at least acknowledge her query, because he just remembered he left that note in there, too. He nods and mumbles "mmm hmm".

"Thank you. You did all my paperwork? You didn't have to, but thanks." She is still slightly baffled and concerned that he didn't take what she told him about balance to heart.

"You're welcome; it's easy to get done without many distractions." He doesn't tell her that despite coming in to work and getting a lot done, he did not spend long days in the office. He tried to find some balance in his activities, so he worked out, hung out with some friends, and even cleaned out his refrigerator, and of course held a few movie marathons.

She almost asks what he wants or what he is hiding or why he did it, but she can't find the right way to ask so she doesn't. She just hopes he didn't spend all of the holiday week so far working and she replies with another thank you and asks if she can help him with some of his work. He responds that he finished what there is to finish about five minutes before she sent the text and he was thinking about pulling up some cold cases.

She decides to deflect that idea, hopefully stealthily. "I guess I will finish checking my email and then we can head out."

He momentarily lets his thoughts stick on the "we" in her sentence. He is still noticing he's being too contemplative lately, about his future, about his past, and about the prospect of any "we" that could possibly exist in his life. So, he continues with the idle chit chat as not to send up any emotional red flags again and warrant another confrontation. "Ok, I will head out with you then. Did you have a nice time off?"

"Yes, thank you." She does not elaborate. "It looks like you were rather productive. Did you do anything fun as well?"

"Just the usual and I took my neighbor out for lupper." He pauses only briefly because he knows that she might not pick up on that one. "Lupper, as in the meal eaten between lunch and supper. She lost her husband last month and her family came in for that and Thanksgiving and decided not to travel again so she was all alone for Christmas. You wouldn't believe the stories a sweet and not so innocent little eighty something year old lady could tell. That's about it."

"That was very sweet of you. I bet she really appreciated that. I'm done with my email so whenever you are ready."

On their way out he does not object to catching a movie with her. It would be her treat to him for doing her paperwork.

**Feedback is appreciated and makes me smile.**


	4. It's About Touch

**Spoilers**: Set after False Witness and will eventually go through the holiday weekish.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Feedback:** Appreciated. Thank you.

They are not ready for the call when they are walking out of the theater. His phone rings, and since he recognizes the number as dispatch, he answers it out of obligation.

"We'll be right in." He says while he reaches across her body to open the passenger side door. She pauses slightly because she's not expecting that and their hands momentarily touch. She purposely doesn't look at him because she knows he is watching her for her reaction. As she gets into the car, he gently takes his hand and trails it from her shoulder to the small of her back to guide her between him and the door. She is now watching him closely as he does this, wondering if he knows he is being more touchy-feely then they both are used to being with each other. If he is doing it intentionally he is not leading on.

"Well, I guess we are going back to the Navy Yard." He says as he puts his phone in his pocket and buckles his seat belt.

She didn't know what he was assuming, but she thinks that is where they are headed anyways since she still has to pick up her car. "We have a case, I presume?"

"Yes and by the sound of it "we" is just me and you. And probably Abby because it looks like I have a missed call from her while I was on the phone."

The logistics of the case coupled with the fact that it is just the two of them leaves him in the field with the local law enforcement while she goes back to take evidence to Abby and start some background searches.

She makes it to the bullpen in less than the time it should take her and heads to Abby's lab. Abby is, of course, waiting for her and in obvious need of assistance. Before Abby even turns around she announces that she was expecting her and tells her not to get too comfortable, and forces her to trade a pair of gloves and a note with a case number for the box of evidence from the crime scene. Apparently, Abby had received some photographs from the crime scene and the victim's name so she is already busy with preliminary forensic work.

She knows by just looking at the piece of paper that this is the locations of some boxes in the caged area of the garage. She sifts through the bagged evidence of an old case as she mentally tries to connect the dots that may or may not actually tie the old case with the current case.

She finds herself in the storage cage several boxes later, leaning up against the stool about four feet off the ground and strategically balanced so that she could reach into the box of evidence, definitely displaying her ninja skills for the rows of boxes to witness. She doesn't flinch when she hears the elevator doors and only briefly looks up curiously when he walks in looking for her.

"Sorry, I forgot my phone at my desk, Abby was quite anxious for me to start looking in here." She yells, assuming he's been trying to track her down.

"Find anything?"

It is nothing but a reflex for him, but she notices the contact he is making with her as he places his hands on the small of her back as she backs down the steps to the floor. It is physically natural, even somewhat sweet and gentle, but she notices that she notices. He doesn't usually share this side of himself with her and for the first time she wonders if it is because she doesn't let him. Her thoughts hitch for a split second and she can't help but wonder if this, his touching, is intentional. Especially after confronting him in the interrogation room, she can't decide if it is her that is letting down a typical defense and actually letting him or if he is more subconsciously cognizant about being respectful. Really there shouldn't be anything wrong with a helping hand given the circumstances, even from a stranger. But this is something different, more than the tease, more than a casual graze of contact; she could feel it but chooses not to acknowledge it, at least not yet.

She looks down at a bag she has in her hand. "I am not through her list yet. But this might be something. I'll have to take it to Abby."

"Looks like you have a good system going. I'll take this to Abbs and give you credit, then come back to help."

It is a normal conversational interaction, like they have all the time in their case-solving mode. The only difference is that this time, as he took the baggie from her, he patted her shoulder in appreciation as if she were his buddy from basketball. Her smile, her nod, and her confused look were simultaneous, and he did not see her reaction. Twice now in the last forty seven seconds he touched her. Not teasing or hesitant or waiting for reaction, just caring, comfortable touches. Again she notices that she notices and she likes that she likes it. Every now and then she has to remind herself that the body is for touching and that is not necessarily a manipulative or dangerous or shameful thing.


	5. It's About Time

**Spoilers**: Set after False Witness and will eventually go through the holiday weekish.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Feedback:** Greatly appreciated.

The case wraps up rather neatly the next afternoon, New Year's Eve. Abby submits her evidence report within minutes, it seems, and leaves Bert to keep a close hippo-eye on the lab. In the bullpen, however, there is a silent agreement to quickly finish the case reports before leaving.

She walks over to the filing cabinet near his desk and starts looking for something. She notices he is probably done with his part of the paperwork because he is already playing some sort of game on his computer.

"Are you ok? You are still acting weird. This is a better weird but still weird." She gives him and the computer a once over by waving her folder in a quick circle around the situation.

"What makes you think I would not be ok?" He asks truly baffled by her question. He feels he is in a cheerful mood and his thoughts haven't been weighing him down in days.

"Well, you were all sad and serious before I left and now you are…"

He interrupts so she doesn't have to rehash those days or point out that he is playing a game, again, on a government computer. "I'm ok, really. Right as rain." But what he actually means is that he feels like he changes when one of them physically or mentally go away and he is just glad to have him to himself over the last day. He doesn't say this, however, and he turns off the game and starts shutting down the other applications on his computer.

She briefly tries to translate that and when 'not left as rain' and 'correct as rain' don't compute she decides to ask. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm fine. Nothing out of the ordinary is going on."

"Really?" She closes the cabinet door with her charming graceful strength.

"Really. Just practicing my idioms." He says as pretends he is straightening up his desk, but in reality he is only shuffling them around.

"That's all?" She is partially conceding to his response as she walks back to her desk until he speaks up again.

He should really be more aggravated at her almost immature interrogation technique of today, if not for personal reasons, for professional ones. "Do you want to come over tonight, ring in the New Year with a movie, pizza, and maybe beer?"

It isn't the reply she is expecting and after what could be called a brief mental squint, trying to decipher exactly what he was saying, she agrees. "Sure."

_SsS_

She is there for less than a minute and only has time to take off her shoes before the door buzzes to notify them that the pizza has arrived. He heads to the door to take care of it; she heads to the couch with napkins and beer.

She is examining her fingernails and her feet are propped up on the coffee table, already comfortable, when he sits down on the couch and sets the box of pizza next to the napkins. She is looking at him when she finally asks, trying to continue the semi-conversation from earlier. "Why am I here?"

"To watch a movie." He responds as he is taking a slice out of the box and handing it to her. But until he catches her still looking at him he thinks that is a satisfying answer. Her eyes say "seriously?" but she doesn't say a word and continues to kindly glare at him.

"I just figured we could spend a little…" Before he could finish his sentence she is reaching for her beeping phone in her pocket. And when she opens it and starts to respond to the text message with a smile, he trails off with what he is saying. "…time together." He knows she hears him, still not sure if that smile is for what she is reading or for what she is hearing, so he waits for a response to see if he should just play off his semi-sweet announcement as just something said in jest. He didn't really need to talk, nothing was really wrong; he really just wanted to spend time with her. That was the simple truth.

She quickly presses send and flips her phone shut, turns it off, and puts it on the end table, reciprocating the fact that she would like to spend some time, not just proximity, with him as well.

The conversation doesn't end with words, but their patented playful, understanding look. They are on the same page. So, instead of saying or doing anything else, they decide to stay on that page for tonight. And for now, at least, it beats the alternative of ripping out that page or changing books entirely.

It is familiar and new, and probably the blankest their page has ever been or will ever be.

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone that followed along!


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